Our Story
by Thisismyjam
Summary: We all have a story. Mine has yet to be finished. I'm doing my best to write it well, but I don't know the ending. The unknown is scary, and Fang? Well, Fang Batchelder is a mystery. A puzzle of sorts. I want to read him, maybe even make him a part of my story, but I don't know how. Things are spinning out of control, and I don't know what to do. FAX
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

There is approximately seven billion people living in this world. That makes seven billion different stories, seven billion dramatic tragedies, and seven billion potential history-makers. Potential is a word with two paths. We choose our paths, our fates. Or so I thought. That was before today's events took place.

My mom claims we do not own a house. She reminds me on a daily basis that "Own is a strong word". Of course the crystal chandelier, velvet carpeting, and eighty-two inch flat screen t.v. beg to differ. "Possession. The word 'own' shows possession. We, as humans, do not possess anything. We are ants in Gods backyard. He owns everything, not us. He gives certain people certain things for a reason. He did not give us this grand house, no, he simply lets us use it. We live on God's property, and therefore we have no say in who enters and who leaves. It's out of our control." Don't get me wrong, God's a great guy, really he is. But that doesn't mean we have to share our house. My dad was brilliant. He invented a system of plumbing that opened a window of possibilities. I don't know the details, other than the fact that his idea was beyond genus and earned us some good money. But apparently that brain of his was not smart enough to keep him alive. It's been seventeen years.

My mom went kind of nuts, or so my aunt says. I guess she used to be different. My aunt Mary even ventured far enough to call her fun. "Fun?" I had replied, eyes wide with shock. "My mom actually used to be fun?" Something went weird in my aunt's eyes, something seamed to snap, but before I could really read into it she turned her head. "Yes" she replied, voice broken " your mom used to be very fun." That's about it. Sometimes little comments about the old Valencia- the witty Valencia- are thrown in, but for the most part she died with my dad.

That was our tragedy. Our story. Our own little piece of history. The thing is, you never want a book series to drag on, especially one that you enjoy. By the fifth or sixth book, the author ought to stop, or else the series will end with disappointment. Rubber stretched too thin, popped like a balloon. My mom, well, she seems to be dragging our story on. The death of my dad, who I do not remember at all, made my mom start what I like to call the "episodes of insanity."She thinks its a good idea to let random strangers stay in our-I'm sorry, God's- house. My aunt says that at first it appeared reasonable. My mom was sad. Lonely. My dad, her husband, was her best friend. They spent all their downtime together. So his absence made life difficult. Her only friend, his sister, was busy working. Unlike us, she wasn't (and still isn't) rich enough to not work. So my mom had no distractions. Besides me, but I guess I wasn't enough.

The grief she felt was understandable. My aunt says she wanted to get rid of it. So, she started going to church. She became involved with other family's. She began helping them. In the process she pushed away anything that had to do with my dad, which consisted of me and my aunt. My aunt became my nanny while my mom, busy like a bee to keep memories of my dad away, brought other family members into our house. At first she brought in whole families. Once she deemed that to be too hectic (thank goodness) she limited it to two people . Then one. Then she only allowed a certain age range. Fifteen to eighteen. Which leads me to the whole purpose of this spiel. Out of seven billion people in this world it had to be him. It just had to be Fang Batchelder.

Fang Batchelder is the next carrier of problems my mom has set herself up to fix. And she will succeed, no doubt about it, she always does. She's good when it comes to fixing other people's problems. She just sucks at fixing her own.

Going down this path, with Fang holding the map, is not a decision that I decided on. But there's nothing I can do about it


	2. Chapter one

I close my eyes, take one last deep breath, and walk into the miserable prison we nicknamed school. My nose is beat down with the nasty scent of sweat and finished off by the lingering stench of poop. I hold my breath as I walk past the boys bathroom, they can be rather gruesome sometimes, and hurriedly continue to my safe haven: my locker. I quickly spin my lock in a strategic way and then practically throw it off its squeaky hinges. Inside lays my perfectly arranged books -in order by class period- and something else...a note? I have a mini heart attack-Who left this note? Did Dylan finally pry my locker combination from Nudge to apologize?- but I quickly put two and two together when I spot my name. It's delicate letters are displayed in a perfect sort of way, and written in cursive. Only one person writes in cursive. Angel. I sigh and pull out the letter, even though I already know what it's going to say. Something along the lines of 'Remember! We have piano lessons tonight!' She started doing this ever since I forgot to attend our concert... on accident of course.

This note is not a reminder though. The words are urgent, making me suck in a deep breath. 'Go to the janitors closet! Now!' We came up with this meeting place a few years ago when we were freshmen. At the time it had been created for the purpose of taking a quick breather from school, but lately it has turned into the barrier of bad news. Last time Angle revealed that Dylan had cheated on me with Bridget-oh that lying bastard- so you can imagine my distress at the moment. What is it now? How can things possibly get any worse? I head to the closet on shaky legs, only I don't make it very far.

"What the heck?" Yells a shrill voice from behind me. It's followed by the clink of angry high heels. The combination is almost too much, making me resist the urge to laugh. Bridget. Always Bridget. I spin around on my converse, making a high pitched squeak with my feet, and loose all the self-discipline I once had. I can't help it. That noise, that high pitched noise of shoe rubbing against tile floor, is almost identical to Bridget's voice. I laugh. And laugh. And laugh. It's the kind of laughter that makes your stomach hurt from doubling over so hard. I'm chortling so extensively that I don't even notice the sickeningly sweet smell that greets my nose. The smell is obviously trying to imitate that of a flower, but is failing miserably. It's too harsh, too vivid, and if my head were actually in the game I might choke. But it's not, it's lost somewhere far away, where nothing really matters and laughing does not come at a cost.

I lose my grip on reality for a little while, but like always the feeling doesn't last. I'm pulled back in when a pair of sharp claws grasps around my pony tail and swings my head around. Before my eyes, lays an angry Bridget. A seething Bridget. Her face, usually hidden behind layers of caked on makeup, is now red and sweaty, having long discarded any trace of coverup. There's a twisted smile on her lips, one that says 'Gotcha!', and before I can even flinch a sweaty palm meets my face. It's a loud smack, resulting in exaggerated gasps from my classmates. No one says anything for a moment, but then encouragements are being strewn across the room. Some root for me, while others cheer on Bridget. With stealth like movements I manage to weave out of her killer hold on my hair. I back away from her before any more damage can be done and stare into her crazed eyes.

"You" she says, pointing a long manicured figure in my direction " better not even think about touching my Fangy-poo. Got it? He's mine. All mine." I stare at her in disbelieve. I'm not sure whether it's from her calling Fang Batchelder 'Fangy-poo' or from her inferring that there's something going on between me and Fang. I almost laugh again, but stop when I remind myself how well that went last time. "I have no freaking clue what your talking about." I say in a bored voice.

"Ohhh. Don't play that game with me! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Ex-ac-ly!" She says this last part in-between stomps, and I have to remind myself who I'm talking to, a five year old. Okay, new approach.

"_Bridget_" I say in a voice that you would use when talking to a child. " I have no idea what you're talking about. Calm down and use your words. Do you think you can do that for me?" This earns me a few laughs, along with a crazed like look within Bridget's eyes. She steps closer to me and this time, prepared, I catch her hand before it makes contact with my cheek. Then in the most menacing voice I can muster I whisper, "_Don't. Touch. Me_." Her eyes go wide in the wounded animal kind of way, and I take this as the right time to break things off. I give her wrist-still lost in my deathly grip- one last squeeze. Then, I push her away and walk calmly to the janitors closet as if nothing ever happened.

What the heck was that? I can't even remember the last time me and Fang talked, if ever. He is _The Guy_. Every girl I know wants him, or at least did at some point. Heck, in the fifth grade I even used to sprout a major crush on him, and who could blame me? He was-and sadly, still is-gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. The kind that makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable just by standing within a certain proximity of his presence. He is just so...striking. He makes the other boys in our school look like naked turkeys; it's actually quite sad. It's not their fault that a Greek God roams the same halls as them. But looks can't erase personality altogether. And if you were to peel away the many layers of charm he wears around girls he wants to lay, you would see a pure jerk. The king of all things deceiving. But most girls choose to overlook this. I, on the other hand, do not. This is why I keep my distance, not that he would even like me, I'm totally average. Then again, he seems to go for anything, including whiny Bridget.

Once I reach the janitors door, I quickly sweep my head back and forth, looking for any unwelcome witnesses. The coast is clear, so I sneakily slip inside. I don't know what's going on, but there's obviously something. People don't just get attacked for no apparent reason. It's dark in here, so I can only see the timid outline of Angel. The soft poof of her curly hair. Her tiny stature and springy skirt. The uneasy bounce of her foot. "Care to explain to me why I just got attacked by a rabid Bridget?" I ask in an annoyed voice. Angle lets out a nervous laugh. Great. This can't be good. "What is it? Just spit it out, I'm gonna find out sooner or later so you might as well tell me now." Angel sighs, but soon enough the words are spilling out of her like hot lava. With every word I am stung with shock. This can't be happening. No. Impossible. My mom knows. She might not be the best mom at times, but she would never go as far as do this to me. Would she?

"So...yeah." Finishes Angel, sounding relieved to finally be done. "I can't believe it." I say, really proving my words true by the tone of my voice. "This can't be happening to me..my mom... no she couldn't possibly. Who...who told you this?" I want Angel to tell me this is all some sort of sick joke, but of course life can never be that easy.

"Everyone! Everyone's saying it Max! Even Fang himself confirmed it. I heard him, I swear!"Disbelieve. If I had to choose one word to sum up my feelings right now that's the word I would choose. Utter disbelieve and a little bit of betrayal. Why wouldn't my mom at least warn me? Have I became so unimportant to her that she doesn't even deem me worthy enough to know this sort of stuff? It would only take her two seconds to say, "Oh yeah, by the way, the guy you hate more than anything-Fang remember him?- is my next project. He's staying at our house for a little bit, okay?" It doesn't make any sense, she had to know I would find out eventually, I mean come on! He's staying at my house for peat's sake! Did she just assume I would find out at school so she wouldn't have to deliver the bad news herself? Or worse, was she going to leave me in the dark until I just happened upon an unexpected guest-by the name of Fang-living inside our house? Ridiculous. Just ridiculous.

Boy, was she gonna get it


	3. Chapter two

"Max?" says Nudge, all the while jabbing me with her sharp nails. I swear, that girl could kill somebody with those things, they're practically lethal.

"What?" I say rubbing my now wounded shoulder. Great, one more soar spot to add to the list. As if all the other bruises already covering my legs aren't enough. Swim team can really get on my nerves sometimes.

"_Look_." Whispers Nudge as she points a weary finger at something behind my left shoulder. The way she says it, with something like shock in her voice, makes my stomach do a mini flip. Nudge never whispers, let alone use a one word sentence.

But when I turn my head I am not met with some scary one-eyed monster (like I expected), rather a pair of dark eyes. A pair of dark sexy eyes. Okay. Wait. Scratch that. Fang does not have sexy eyes. No. Their hideous bottomless pits that hold no emotion what's so ever. Yeah. So there. Take that Fang.

It's as if he can read my mind because suddenly he's smirking his trademark of a smirk. It's the same one that makes girls melt like the wicked witch of the west, moms stop mid-track, and gays wish with all their might that a closet might just appear out of nowhere. Fang Batchedler is just too much.

I don't know if it's my imagination or what, but it seems as though the whole room sighs. And if that seems crazy to you, get this, Fang winks at me. Literally winks, no joke. Someone sighs, and this time it's not my delusional brain acting up, it's Nudge. _This_, this dreamy sigh, is all I need to wake up from my momentary idiocy. Fang is a player. Every girls wants him, and the worst part? He knows it. Which is why I'm about to prove him wrong.

I secretly smile to myself, and then swing around, giving him the cold shoulder. I go back to eating, trying my best to pretend nothing even happened. The most popular guy in school did not just smile at me. Nope.

Nudge, on the other hand, isn't too good at this game. "OMG! Max! Fang just smiled at you! Did you see that? Tell me you didn't just see that! And before that he was like totally staring at you." She's practically bouncing in her seat...and oh my gosh. Is she actually clapping?

" _Nuuuggeee_" I whine, practically disappearing in my chair. "Stop it. Your embarrassing me." Either she doesn't hear me, or she's just flat out ignoring me because she continues on. She actually squeals. This is a perfect example of why I was putting off telling her about Fang's stay. A perfect example.

"By the way your acting you would think you spotted a movie star. Your over reacting wayyy too much. He probably wasn't even smiling at me. Maybe his mouth had a twitch." Nudge stops mid-clap and looks at me like _I'm_ the crazy one.

"His mouth had a twitch? That's the best you could do?" She says this with one perfectly waxed eyebrow raised. "I think you know better than that Max. Why can't you just accept the situation for what it really is?"

"Oh, and what is that? Enlighten me, would you?" I'm ready for a good laugh. She'll probably come up with some bazar explanation of how Fang Batchelder is 'totally in love with you'. Yeah right.

"Don't use that tone with me! You and I both kno-omigod! Am I dreaming?" Before I can stop myself I turn around in my seat. Sure enough, the high and mighty king himself nonchalantly strolls his way over to us. I try not to let the flicker of surprise show on my face, but I must of failed because he appears smug. Then again, is there ever a moment where Fang doesn't seem smug? I roll my eyes. Could he be anymore dramatic? The way he walks like he owns the place is quite irritating. His ego could use a a good kick in the shins.

"Ladies" he says, nodding his head towards us "what's up?" I think Nudge just fainted.

I smile, not wanting to show that (I too) am shocked by his easy manner. He makes it seem as if this is normal, when it is obviously anything _but_. "Nothing much...just you know, eating...because its lunchti-oww! Wha-" Nudge slyly pulls her foot away from my now throbbing knee-god she can kick- and begins talking in that flirty way of hers before I can get another word in.

"Me and Max were just saying how you should totally hang out with us sometime. And " we were? " actually Max is hosting a huge party next weekend. Her mom's going out of town, so it's perfect timing. What'dya say? You wanna join? It's gonna be a-ma-zing." Woah, woah, woah, a party? Hold the phone. There is no way I'm throwing a party. My mom would kill me and then bring me back for round two. And I might just let her because throwing a party and inviting a bunch of obnoxious teenagers sounds dreadful. Heck, I might just kill myself to avoid it.

"I-"

"Sure. I'm in. Don't worry Max, I'll help you with the invite list. After all. I will be staying at your house for quite a while. It's the least I can do." He does that half smile again, except this time it says;_ I-know-you-don't-want-me-to-come-but-I'm-comming-anyways-so-deal-with-it_. Damn I'm beginning to hate that smile.

And with that he walks away, calling over his shoulder, "See you at the party ladies."

The second he's out of range Nudge pounces on me. "What did he mean,' I'm staying at your house for quite a while'? Is there something your not telling me?"

"_Me_? Is there something your not telling _me_? Something that has to do with a party at-let me remind you- my house!" I kind of accidentally screech the last part, but I can't help it, what was she thinking?

"Chill, I have it all under control. You gotta live a little Max. Now cheer up! And spill! I can only stand the suspense for so long. If you don't tell me soon I might just have to ask Fang himself!" I sigh, not doubting that she would, and tell Nudge everything I know.

And so it begins.


End file.
